


Place Your Bets

by robotsandmagicalboys



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pre-Canon, Gen, Other: See Story Notes, Trans Shepard, ftm shepard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-02
Updated: 2016-07-02
Packaged: 2018-07-19 16:58:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7370143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robotsandmagicalboys/pseuds/robotsandmagicalboys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being the first human to serve on a Turian Starship was no easy task. It turns out they handled stress and tensions between crew members very differently than back in the Alliance. Shepard was going to have to prove himself earlier than planned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Place Your Bets

**Author's Note:**

> My headcanon for my Shepard is that he served on a Turian ship for a few years and acted as a liaison in an effort to end some of the antagonism from the First Contact War. His success on that assignment and the ability to work with other races even though tension was high and still excel at the task given made him the optimal choice for being the first human Spectre. This is set early during his time on the Turian ships.  
> All of the details about the turian ships are headcanon I don’t even care. I make my own lore bye.  
> All potential trigger warnings are posted at the end of the chapter.

“Did you hear the Commanders are finally opening up the ring to fights?”

            “It’s about time! Thought they weren’t going to do it before this mission.”

            “Probably didn’t want to freak out the human.”

            “Who cares about that!?”

            Shepard sighed, walking through the Dining Bay. He sat at a table by himself in the corner as usual, drinking from the tasteless food packet. It wasn’t the first time he’d overheard people talking about him. He expected it. Being the only human on a Turian ship would do that. He wondered if they realized his translator was on all the time. Or if they just didn’t care. That was probably more likely. He hadn’t overheard anything he wasn’t expecting so far. Distrust. Doubt in his capabilities. Frustration. But he would get through this. He had to.

            “Well come on, let’s get going.”

            “Gotta place bets early.”

            Shepard waited a few moments before getting up and following, wanting to know what these fights were going to be. It wasn’t as if fights didn’t break out on Alliance ships. And if there was tension between the participants you could be sure people would place bets. But it _definitely_ wasn’t sanctioned by the commanders. And it got everyone involved thrown into the brig and barred from the next mission.

            As he walked to the main corridors of the ship, it turned out that the group of Turians he overheard weren’t the only ones walking in that direction. They all headed to the bowels of the ship, to the training deck. All the equipment was removed to make room for a larch clear space, sectioned off by light tape, and surrounded by cheering Turians. Shepard pushed his way to the front of the crowd to see two Turians fighting in the center. Both in their armor. And a third Turian stood in the rink with them, watching closely. It reminded Shepard a lot of boxing matches back home. Only there didn’t appear to be a lot of holds barred in this fight.

            A voice somewhere to his left shouted, “Last call for sign ups!!”

            Shepard hurried over to a table, pushing his way through the crowd. One of the officers sat there with a small tablet in her hands. She looked at him and sighed. “Go back to the crowd, kid.”

            He leaned forward and put his hands on the table. “I’m signing up.”

            “No.” Her glare was firm and unwavering as she stared him down. “You aren’t. You’re gonna get yourself hurt.”

            “What are these fights about?” Shepard asked.

            The officer sighed. “They’re for stress relief before the mission coming up.”

            Shepard let out a dry laugh. “I’m pretty sure I’m the most stressed out one here. _And_ I have something to prove to _everyone_ on this ship.”

            “Which is why you need to save your energy for the mission,” she said.

            “No.” Shepard frowned. “The mission is the _worst_ place for me to try and prove anything. No one on this ship trusts me and for good reason. I’m _Alliance_. And I know for a fact none of them are going to trust me to pull my weight on the mission. Proving myself in the mission is important, but establishing that I can pull my weight and handle my own _before_ then will make the mission less stressful for the squad I’m in. They’ll know I can handle myself. And all I have to prove then is that I have their backs. Put. Me. On. The. List.”

            The officer stared at him, shook her head and little and chuckled. “You got guts at least.” She typed his name into the roster.

            Shepard grinned. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

            “Rules are simple. No killing. And when the judge calls the fight you do not argue and you stop immediately or you’ll be sent to the brig.” She pointed to a small group of Turians off to the side. “Go wait over there with them.”

            Shepard nodded. “Thanks.”

            “Don’t thank me yet, kid,” she sighed. “Try not to get hurt, alright?”

            Shepard flashed a grin. “Don’t worry about me.”

            He walked over and stood with the group of Turians waiting to fight.

            “This ain’t for spectators, human,” said one of them.

            “I know.” Shepard rolled his shoulders.

            “You’re not serious…” One of the others groaned. “This is a joke right? The Brass ain’t really letting you fight are they?”

            “They are.”

            Their glares _burned_ into his back. He took a deep breath. He could do this. He could do this. Had to do this. He tuned out the complaints and bickering, just watching the fights. One after the other he watched the other soldiers get called to the rink. He’d almost hoped to just get thrown into the next fight. But of course that wouldn’t be the case. He forced himself not to fidget. He couldn’t look nervous. Even though _everything_ was probably riding on this fight.

            Shepard sighed and forced himself to think about gun calibrations and blueprints instead.

            “Gunnery Sergeant Arcus,” the referee called. “And Corporal Shepard.”

            The room went silent for the first time as the two of them walked out to the ring. Whispers started quickly and the ruckus came back. People had been pretty quiet about making bets even though Shepard was sure the officers knew already. But they didn’t have any problems loudly betting against him.

            “Easy money!”

            “Didn’t realize this was a slaughtering grounds!”

            “5,000 credits on Arcus!”

            “20,000!”

            Arcus smirked. “Tell you what… I’ll go easy on you this round alright? Wouldn’t want you getting too roughed up before the mission.”

            Shepard knew _that_ smirk well and only just barely managed to keep his poker face. He wasn’t the first person to underestimate him. Being only 165cm in _Alliance_ military got him vastly underestimated. And on a Turian ship where the average height was nearly 200cm _and_ he was a squishy human? It’s no wonder they all hated him. Called him things like “kid” and “weakling” both behind his back and to his face. But this wasn’t the first time he’d have to prove himself. And it certainly wouldn’t be the last.

            “Thanks, pal,” Shepard sighed, feigning relief.

            “Alright, keep it clean, boys,” said the ref. “You know the rules.” He stepped back and waved his hand to signal the start.

            Arcus came at him almost immediately, hoping to get the jump on him. Shepard ducked under the punch and elbowed him hard in the stomach, sending him back a few steps. Arcus stared at him for a split second before coming at him again. He telegraphed far too much. All too easy to grab him and throw him down on his back.

            Arcus blinked up at him as the ref called “Round One, Corporal Shepard.”

            Shepard just smirked. “Glad you announced you were going easy on me cause that would just be _embarrassing_ if that was a real attempt.”

            The screams of angry betters were _deafening_. Arcus hopped up, back into fighting even before the ref called it. Shepard just dodged and blocked. Arcus anger came through full force. Each blow hitting harder than the last. But also getting sloppier. Shepard waited for his opportunity and threw him once again. Back onto the ground.

            The ref stepped in-between them then. “Arcus, you’re banned from the rink for the rest of the day for fighting between rounds.”

            “He-!” Arcus tried, but the ref cut him off.

            “No arguments or you’re banned from the mission too for insubordination. Out of the rink.”

            Arcus grumbled and got up, marching off to who knows where.

            Shepard walked back to the waiting area for the fighters, hoping no one could see him shaking.

            “Where’d you learn to fight like that?” asked one of the others. He recognized the voice as one of his squad mates, Dectis, though they’d never actually spoken beyond the introduction.

            Shepard looked up and gave an awkward shrug. “The Colonies were brutal.”

            Dectis chuckled. “I’ll say.”

            He didn’t say anything else, but Shepard didn’t feel the glares like he did before. He listened and watched as other fights went on. Fought whenever his name was called. He didn’t win every fight, but he won enough that he had plenty of voices cheering for him by the end of the day. And was used to the screams and shouts of happy betters during his fights.

            He headed back to the Dining Bay, tired and a sorer than he’d like from the day’s fights but it had been worth it. So worth it.

            “Hey, Shepard!” a voice called.

            Shepard blinked and looked in the direction of the voice. Dectis waved him over. He recognized the others with him, all from their Squad. Two women, Virilea and Tutana, and another man named Brutus. Shepard hesitated for a moment before walking over and joining their table.

            “You put up a damn good fight today,” Virilea congratulated. “We should spar sometime.”

            “Don’t listen to her,” said Brutus. “She’s the best hand-to-hand specialist on the ship and is always looking for new victims.”

            Virilea rolled her eyes. “Don’t ruin my fun!”

            “I saw you in the ring today,” said Shepard. “Those guys never stood a chance.”

            She grinned. “Damn straight.”

            “Have to say, I’m not worried about you being on our team anymore,” said Brutus.

            Shepard grinned at little. His planned worked. “Hand to hand isn’t even my specialty.”

            Brutus shot him a look. “Then what fuck is?”

            “Long range munitions,” said Shepard. “I’m a sniper.”

            Brutus shook his head and Dectis snickered. “How about a drink?”

            “Ah,” Shepard sighed. “I can’t. Turian food doesn’t go over well with humans. And I’d rather not find out if I’m the ‘deathly alergic’ type.”

            “What the fuck have you been eating then?” Brutus asked.

            Shepard held up the small packet. “This shit.”

            “What _is_ it?” Brutus took the packet, examining it.

            “Just the nutrients I need to live made into a flavorless paste.” Shepard sighed and leaned back on the bench. “And I thought _Alliance_ food was bad.”

            “Yikes,” muttered Tutana. “I mean the food here isn’t great, but that’s brutal.”

            “Right?” Shepard sighed. “But I have to eat something. I’ve put in some supply requests to the Alliance for real food, but who knows if they’ll actually go through.”

          “It’s unlikely in the space we’re in,” Dectis sighed. “It’s hard enough getting munitions requests through.”

            Shepard sighed. “I’m mostly hoping for getting some once we get into a safer space, but I doubt anything will happen. Alliance just wants me to get out of this alive.”

            Shepard chatted and talked with his Squad while they ate. They only parted ways when it was time to get back to their bunks to sleep.

            The mission ahead didn’t seem so stressful anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> Potential Trigger warnings: There’s still racial tension between Turians and Humans. Minor swearing and violence. It’s just sparring so no one gets hurt. (I don't think anything in the fic is bad enough that it would trigger somebody but just in case)  
> Also… again Shepard being trans has no bearing on what happens in this. No talk about dysphoria or transphobic slurs. He’s just trans.  
> Just for reference for American readers who didn’t look up the heights… 165cm is about 5’5”. Shepard is a smol. And I figure average Turian height is about 6’6”-6’8” so nearly 200cm. (It was 195-198cm I think? I’m American. I had to look it up.) I figure the earth has finally realized that the metric system is better.  
> And thank god for fantasynamegenerators because that’s where I stole all the Turian names from hahaaaa


End file.
